


Remembrance Day

by Sioux



Category: The Bill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sioux/pseuds/Sioux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very AU, takes place fifteen years after The Kiss and assumes Craig grew a new pair!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance Day

Backstage was quiet bedlam. Everyone had rehearsed until they could do this in their sleep but there was still the fear at the back of each person’s mind that they would put a foot wrong and make themselves and their colleagues look fools.

The smell of spit and polish permeated the air. Buttons shone, leather shoes, smooth as mirrors, silkily reflecting the organised bustle.

Anxiously Gilmore straightened his tie and picked at a miniscule piece of lint on his right shoulder. His left hand was slow and a little clumsy. Gently it was moved aside as a young brunette woman took over. She wielded her claw, the replacement for her right hand, much more effectively than Craig handled his damaged left hand.  
She picked the lint off his shoulder and straightened his tie until it was millimetre perfect.

“Thanks Mary, the small movements are difficult still.”

“It’ll come Craig, just keep up with the physio and it’ll happen.”

He smiled at her, feeling the uncomfortable pull of scar tissue. She returned the smile then went silent as their steward headed towards them.

The other stewards were lining up civilians and service personnel alike for their entrance at the proper time.

Their steward, Donald, said,

“Inspector Gilmore, you’ll hear the cue through the speakers, it will be…”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Metropolitan Police,” Gilmore finished for the steward.

The man smiled. “Wish they were all as prepared as you. The band will then begin to play the theme from The Great Escape.”

After a moment’s astonished silence, Gilmore and Mary Turner dissolved into giggles.

“How appropriate!” she sniggered, knowing her black humour wasn’t to everyone’s taste.

Donald looked nonplussed.

“Well, we did, didn’t we? Escaped the bomb,” she explained.

Donald grinned then, obviously beginning to share her sense of humour.

“So did a large proportion of the people in here. I didn’t think of it like that though, Sergeant Turner.”

Gilmore smiled, the action pulling the tissue on his face again. Donald didn’t seem to notice the odd effect of the scars on his smile. He slapped Craig on the back and moved onto prepare the next contingent.

Quietly the men and woman in Craig’s group walked to the stairs, Gilmore in the lead, and all listened to the music. As the group in front departed Craig led his team up the stairs. At the top they quietly marched on the spot, getting in the correct time with each other. Then the cue,

“The Ladies and Gentlemen of the Metropolitan Police!”

A huge cheer rang around the Albert Hall as Craig led his team, in perfect time, down the stairs to the centre of the stage. All were in best number ones and all of the people in the group sported some disfigurement; a false arm, leg, scars or other disability. 

The commentary for the viewers at home was relayed softly around the auditorium.

“Inspector Gilmore leads the veterans of the Metropolitan Police force. The group is just a small sample of the brave men and women who police the streets of the Capital day in and day out. All of these people have been severely injured in some way in the line of duty. Several were injured getting members of the public to safety when a bomb exploded inside a hospital waiting room.”

Craig let the rest of the spiel wash over him. He’d heard it several times already and he’d found he didn’t feel quite as uncomfortable about it, if he stopped listening to it.

The stage filled quickly. All marching in time, then stopping and standing like statues until silence fell. It was hot under the lights but the gaze of several million people, those inside the building and the huge crowd on the other side of the camera, seemed to increase the temperature even more. No one made a single move to wipe a brow or cheek. 

The music stopped and silence fell until a single voice intoned the Remembrance litany. Then that voice fell silent too. The lament being taken up by the sounding of the Last Post.

Gradually the single poppy petals falling from the dark height of the ceiling became a deluge; petals coming to rest on his hat and the shoulders of Gilmore’s uniform. 

He thought about the members of the relief he was representing, those who hadn’t made it out alive as a result of that explosion. He let his eyes unfocus, bringing each face to mind and mentally saluting it before moving on to the next one. He bowed his head at this final silent salute.

Then the massed bands began to play again, a jaunty melody to bring the solemn proceedings to an upbeat close. He pulled his shoulders back and lifted his head. His face, upper body, left arm and hand were disfigured by burns but he refused to do anything less than look the world in the face. He was one of the lucky ones and he knew it.

Waiting for the ranks in front of him to begin marching away his attention was drawn to the lone figure still standing after the salute was over. Tears falling unchecked down the smooth cheeks of the younger man as he looked over the massed ranks below him. Or more accurately the massed ranks of the Metropolitan Police. Craig was trying to be professional but there was something about that face which kept attracting his attention. The lights from above cast deep shadows so most of his face was difficult to see, which was making identification a bit difficult. 

As the line in front began to march on the spot, the man turned, his face in full light now. He noticed Craig’s eyes swivelled in his direction and gave a tremulous smile.

Craig was dumbfounded! He recognised the guy now. It was the little shit of a constable who’d kissed him then run, almost literally, away from him. Where had he been stationed then? Sunhill, that was it. He knew him from when he was stationed at Sunhill. Ashe, Ashley, no, Luke Ashton. 

After being told by the young man that the reason he’d kissed him was because he’d been making fun of him, Gilmore had marched in to see Gina Gold and demanded something be done about the obnoxious young man. Between them they’d hatched a scheme which had worked well. Ashton was to be given a choice; he could either ask to be transferred to another station or he would taken to a tribunal for sexual harassment. After a lot of vitriolic words and a half hearted attempt at making a complaint against Gilmore, he’d chosen the transfer.

Craig didn’t miss a beat as he thought about Gina, her good heart and her acid tongue all part of the package. The tongue now silenced forever by cancer’s deadly touch. He still missed her.

Craig marched in step out of the auditorium then relaxed, prepared to enjoy a chat and drink with his colleagues.

They’d spoken to the brass, had the obligatory cold, small glass of sherry with them and then adjourned to the pub across the road for more rowdy celebrations. Craig only intended to have a couple of pints with the relief and then to push off so they could let off steam without him. He’d bought the first round and distributed the drinks when he found himself looking down into the hazel eyes of Luke Ashton.

“Hello Craig,” he said quietly.

“Ashton,” Craig replied, the scars on his face seeming to stand out more.

“I, umm, I just wanted to say something,” Luke faltered.

Craig raised his eyebrows, the action forcing his face into an even more unnatural expression.

Luke looked up at him and then dropped his eyes.

“You’ll get used to working out my expressions the more you actually look at my face,” Craig said harshly, accepting no blame for the way the explosion had re-arranged his features.

“No, it’s not that. I just wanted to apologise.”

Craig’s eyes wrinkled with puzzlement.

“I spent a lot of time blaming you for my shortcomings. I’m so sorry for what I said to you when we were at Sunhill.”

Craig huffed impatiently.

“Not just said, as I recall,” he replied waspishly.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Luke said, earnestly looking up at Craig’s scarred face. “I really wanted to kiss you and keep on kissing you but I was too much of a coward to say and do what I really wanted.”

Craig looked down at Luke. For those well versed in reading his twisted face, he was showing absolute contempt.

“And now?”

Luke smiled, a few more lines around his eyes becoming more prominent.

“Now I’ve accepted who I am and I’m out.”

“Good for you Ashton.”

Craig made to move past him but Ashton detained him with a hand on his injured arm.

Craig looked at the hand on his arm then very deliberately at Ashton.

“I was just wondering if we could go for a drink sometime?” Ashton asked, all huge eyes and hopefulness.

Craig snorted.

“Oh I don’t think so! I make it a point never to entertain little prick teasers, even those from fifteen years ago.”

Angrily Craig shook his hand off his arm and strode off towards his colleagues.

Mary looked up at him, a welcoming smile on her face, which faded the instant she saw the storm clouds in his eyes.

“What’s up?”

Craig closed his eyes and snorted.

“A really bad penny turning up from years back!”

She turned and saw the serious face looking longingly at Craig’s back. Deliberately she put her arm around Craig’s waist and dragged him down for a willingly given kiss.

“Then let’s drown the bastard in drink!” she said lifting her glass to his.

 

Much later, indignantly recounting Luke approaching him to his husband, he was floored when Dave said,

“Maybe I should go and thank him.”

“What?”

“If he hadn’t been such a prick, perhaps you’d never have fallen into my arms!” he replied, smiling into his lover’s eyes.

His answer was a rueful laugh and a pillow being thrown at him from the bed.


End file.
